Sugar Quills
by ShellyK
Summary: RW/HG-- Hermione begins to see Ron in a new light.... ***Author's Note Added! Please Read!!***


**Disclaimer**:  I do not own the Harry Potter universe.  Everything is used without permission.  No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N**:  Would you believe I'm actually capable of writing something that's not smut?  Oy!  Anyway, it's rated R just because I make references to sex, and I want to be on the safe side.  Sorry if it's too high, but honestly, better to be safe than sorry!

Sugarquills 

Really, one should not think these things about their best friend.  Unfortunately, I was a goner, completely head over heels, not able to think of anything else, and all because of a simple piece of candy.  

So unassuming they were, sugar quills.  

Yet, when you combine them with one Ronald Weasley, the mix can be mind blowing, extraordinary, and downright distracting.  And when other people start to notice how said combination has begun affecting you, well….  Rather embarrassing that, especially when the person noticing is the very object of your desires.  So much confusion, anticipation and even unexpected feelings stemming from one little object made of spun sugar.  Never will I be able to look at another sugar quill the same way again.

Honestly, it was really Ron's fault.  Instead of feasting on that candy, he should have been finishing his homework.  It wasn't like he didn't have any.  Always the procrastinator, that Ron.  Just one more nibble, one more lick was always needed before he would even entertain the thought of completing his essay.  It was a wonder he passed his classes, with all that chewing on quills.  I had never really noticed Ron's intense like for sugar quills until that night, when the candy irrevocably became one of my deepest fascinations.  

The three of us sat at a table in the library, trying to finish our assignments (well, Harry and Ron were trying to finish; I was well ahead, but felt I could do with some more revision) when I put my finished book down, and reached for another.  It was at that moment, that precise instant in time, that my thoughts seemed to have shifted permanently to Ronald Weasley.  

He was nibbling on a sugar quill.  

It was almost like a magnetic force pulled my gaze to his lips.  I tried to look away, but found that I couldn't.  For some reason, I was drawn to the sight of that beautiful mouth, as it chewed on the delicate quill.  That was the first of my many inappropriate thoughts since then.  How could I think that about my best friend?  Did I think that Harry had a beautiful mouth?  No, not really.  It wasn't that Harry wasn't attractive (as a woman, I could definitely appreciate a man's attractiveness), however when it came to Ron, there was something more, something almost primal.  

With increasing fascination, I watched Ron, as his tongue darted from his lips, in search for some candy.  The gesture was the most erotic thing I had ever seen, not that I was terribly experienced.  But, just the sight of his tongue caused an immediate, and somewhat unexpected reaction.  Suddenly, it felt like my stomach was in knots, and when I shifted, a very unfamiliar sensation tugged between my legs.  It caught me completely off guard.  Never had I ever felt anything of the likes.  Oh, I have found other boys physically pleasing, but I had never _let_ myself think of Ron in that light.  And what surprised me most was that it wasn't unpleasant.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  

My eyes kept their gaze firmly upon Ron, still eating away, absolutely oblivious to my staring, and apparent predicament.  For the first time, I really looked at Ron, seeing him, not as the eleven-year-old boy with dirt on his nose, but as a man.  And what a striking man he was.  As he sat there, head bent over his supposed homework, his too long red fringe dropping into those bright blue eyes, while he captured the end of that sugar quill between his lips, I began wondering just what it would feel like to have those lips on my body.  

The thought had been so foreign, so startling that almost immediately, I was alarmed.  I should _not_ be thinking that about Ron.  _Well, why not?_ This second thought was almost as startling as the first, as it seemed that my psyche was actually contemplating feeling these strange things about Ron.  True, I had a small (large!) crush on Ron, but that was normal, as he was practically the only male I associated with on a regular basis, but what I was thinking at that moment went way beyond likes and crushes, threatening to cross that unspoken threshold of sexuality.  

Suddenly, my mind exploded in a whirlwind of thoughts.  A particularly vivid image of Ron licking my neck, right at that crook of my shoulder, invaded me.  It was like I was there.  I could see Ron leaning over the library table, his blue eyes darkened with desire.  In this image, he was advancing towards me, and I could almost feel his breath on my skin.  My imaginary self tilted her head, exposing her neck to him before his lips brushed the skin, and his tongue licked a path.  

Even just imagining what wonders Ron could do with that mouth, I could practically feel his tongue on the sensitive flesh of my neck, causing heat to pool within me.  Without realising it, my breathing had accelerated, and my face felt hot and flushed.  I shifted in my seat, and again, incredible sensations hit my centre, causing me to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from crying out.

"Hermione, are you all right?"   His voice hit me like a cold shower.  My eyes widened, and met his concerned ones.    

"What?"

"I asked if you were all right," he repeated.

"Yes, I'm fine!" What if Ron found out I was thinking these things about him?  I was sure that would be the end of our friendship.  

"Are you sure?" he asked.  "You're breathing hard, and you look a little flushed."  

"I said I was fine!" I repeated, harshly. 

Then, Ron's concern changed into something else, something I had never seen before.  He looked almost predatory.  His wonderful mouth curved into a mischievous, lopsided grin, and again, I felt my insides go weak.  "You know," he began slowly, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were _turned on_."  He even raised his eyebrow suggestively to bring the point home.

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was sure he could read the guilty shock on my face.  So, I did the only thing I could think of doing.  I denied the whole bloody thing.  "Ronald Weasley!  I can't believe you…I…that you…you would think that I…I am NOT turned on!" I shrieked, a little too loudly.   Madam Pince even had to shush me.  That had never happened to me before.  Ever.  

Harry, who was hiding behind a large, dusty book, snorted, obviously trying to contain his laughter.  My eyes flitted dangerously towards the shaking book, but quickly settled on Ron, who seemed to be enjoying this whole fiasco.  The concern in his eyes made way for amusement.  This was not good.  

"I don't know Hermione.  You looked suspiciously like someone who was turned on…."

"Oh, and you're a big expert, now?"

If I thought that would deter Ron, I was sadly mistaken.  His grin widened.  "Stop changing the subject," he said, wolfishly, and then leaned over the table, much like he had in my imagination.  Without any control over my body, it began anticipating Ron's next move.  He moved in close, and involuntarily, I moved towards him.   My eyes almost bugged out when I realised Ron was coming in for the kill.  But instead of kissing my neck, he whispered in my ear, "Do I turn you on, Hermione?"

With those simple words, I thought I would spontaneously combust.  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that, yes, he turned me on, but pride kept me sane.  There was no way I would let anyone know they had such an effect on me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"  Violently, I slammed my book shut, and began packing my things.  I vaguely registered the fact that Harry was still there, watching the entire exchange with silent delight.  

"Why don't you just admit it, Hermione?  I turn you on!"

Panic began flooding me.  I would not admit to anything.  I couldn't.  Instead, I retaliated.  "Ron, you couldn't turn me on if you tried."

Harry sputtered, almost falling off his chair.   Ron's eyes widened in shock, but soon, it was replaced by something else.  It seemed that my statement did not have the desired effect.   Ron did not run away angrily, or yell.  No, in fact, Ron looked pleased.  "Is that a challenge, Hermione?"  _Oh God! _  And then, his lips wrapped around the sugar quill that had started this all….

That was two days ago, and since then, all coherence was lost on my part.  Not a minute went by that I did not think of Ron's threat, or of how he looked, as he chewed on that damned sugar quill.  In class, my thoughts wandered enough that I was called upon for my inattentiveness.  Harry just shook his head, while Ron smiled knowingly.  He knew.  I was making no secret of the fact that Ron was wreaking havoc on my hormones, though I tried valiantly to hide my reactions.  And bloody Ron was being so smug about it too.  It almost seemed like he was relishing the fact that it was he who had been able to break through my tightly controlled reactions.

All Through Hogwarts, I have been so concentrated on my studies, on becoming Head Girl, that I hardly paid boys any attention.  I was not ashamed to admit that, though many of my schoolmates had ventured into sexual activity, I had not.  I had always thought I was above these petty little bouts of lust filled encounters.  That was until a silly little thing like Ron eating a sugar quill crashed into my life.  Perhaps I was just a late bloomer.  What ever it was, it was not conduct becoming the Head Girl.  I had to keep my wits about me.  Regrettably for my professors and my schoolwork, my wits kept venturing towards Ron.  

At the end of that day's classes, Harry, who had not been hiding his amusement at my situation, took me aside, and proceeded to give me rather unwanted advice.  "Hermione, just shag Ron, and get it over with!" he said to me.  

I was so shocked that I just stared at him, for what seemed like an eternity before he left me alone in the room.   Did I dare cross that line with Ron?  Would I be willing to throw away seven years of friendship for a shag, as my other best friend had so eloquently put it?  No, I didn't think I could.  Could I?  Well, who was to say that our friendship would suffer?  Practically every psychologist on the planet, that's who.  Still….

That I was entertaining actually acting on these feelings was unbelievable.  That was not the Hermione Granger I knew.  I just didn't go jumping into bed with my best friend!  It was wrong!  It was unthinkable!  It was the most arousing idea I had ever had.  

Sighing, I made my way back to Griffyndor Tower (thankfully, as Head Girl, I had a private room), and as I opened my door, I noticed a package lying atop my bed.  Curiosity overtook me, as I crossed the room to pick up the box.  There was a note attached. "_Sweet dreams, Hermione!_" it said, in Ron's messy scrawl.  Eagerly, I opened the gift to find the bane of my existence.  

There, in the brightly wrapped package lay a sugar quill.


End file.
